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UNIVERSI 


■<,Ui    Or    C,lirO..NlA.   SAN   OtEG(T 


LA  JOLLA,  CALlFURk^lA 


R  A  B 


AND  HIS  FRIENDS 


i; 


By   JOHN    BROWN,   M.D. 


i 


^ 


^ 


^ 


•fl 


BOSTON  : 
TICKNOR    AND    t'lELDS 

T  864. 


i 


SJ'^ 


DR.    BROWN'S   WRITINGS. 


SPARE     HOURS; 

By  John  Brown,  M.  D. 

1  vol.    12mo.    $  1.60. 

The  anthor  of  "  Rab  and  his  Friends  "  scarcely  needs  an  introdnction 
to  American  readers.    By  this  time  many  have  learned  to  agree,  with  a 
writer  in  the  North  British  Review,  that  "  Rab  "  is,  all  things  con- 
sidered, the  most  perfect  prose  narrative  since  Lamb's  "  Rosamond  Gray." 
[From  the  London  Tixeb,  October  21.] 

"  Of  all  the  John  Browns,  commend  us  to  Dr.  John  Brown,  the  physician, 
the  man  of  genius,  the  humorist,  the  student  of  men,  women,  and  dogs.  By 
means  of  two  beautiful  volumes  he  has  given  the  public  a  share  of  nis  by- 
hours,  and  more  pleasant  hours  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  any  life. 

*'  Dr.  Brown's  master-piece  is  the  story  of  a  dog  called  '  Rab.'  The  tale 
moves  from  the  most  tragic  pathos  to  the  most  reckless  humor,  and  could  not 
have  been  written  but  by  a  man  of  genius.  Whether  it  moves  to  laughter  or 
to  tears,  ii  is  pentsot  in  its  way,  and  immortalizes  its  author." 


RAB    AND    HIS    FRIENDS. 

8d  edition.  1  vol.  16mo.   Paper.   15  cents. 

[From  the  Mobnino  ELerjid.] 

"  Who  is  he  that  has  not  heard  of,  if  not  read, '  Rab  and  his  Friends '  ?  We 
suppose  that  there  have  been  few  stories  ever  printed  which,  in  so  short  a 
time,  won  for  their  author  fame.  Certainly  never  was  a  story  so  short  and  so 
pathetic,  so  full  of  joyous  tears,  so  brimming  with  the  actions  from  which 
spring  sacred  pity.  We  do  not  envy  the  man,  and  we  cannot  imagine  the 
woman  or  girl,  who  could  read  the  story  of '  Rab  and  his  Friends '  without  tears 
actual  or  imminent." 

[From  Chambebs'  Journal.] 

"  What  Landseer  is  upon  canvas,  that  Dr.  Brown  is  upon  paper.  The 
canine  family  was  never  before  so  well  represented  in  literature." 


PET     MARJORIE. 

1  vol.  16mo.  Paper.  26  cents. 


D:^  For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  postpaid,  to  any  address  on 
receipt  of  the  price,  by  the  publishers. 


TICKNOR  &  FIELDS,  Boston. 


To    my    rWO    FRIENDS 
at  Busby,  Renfreivshire, 

In   Remembrance  of  a  Journey  from  Carstairs  Junction 
to   Toledo  and  back. 


RAB  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 


By  JOHN  BROWN,  M.  D. 


vt*£ 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS. 

MDCCCLXIV. 


University  Press: 
Welch,    Bigelow,   and  Company, 
Cambridge. 


0Z 


^73 

RAB  AND   HIS   FRIENDS. 

Tj^OUR-AND-THIRTY  years  ago,  Bob 
Ainslie  and  I  were  coming  up  Infirmary 
Street  from  the  High  School,  our  heads  to- 
gether, and  our  arms  intertwisted,  as  only 
lovers  and  boys  know  how  or  why. 

When  we  got  to  the  top  of  the  street,  and 
turned  north,  we  espied  a  crowd  at  the  Tron 
Church.  "A  dog-fight!"  shouted  Bob,  and 
was  off;  and  so  was  I,  both  of  us  all  but  pray- 
ing that  it  might  not  be  over  before  we  got 
up!  And  is  not  this  boy-nature*?  and  human 
nature  too?  and  don't  we  all  wish  a  house  on 
fire  not  to  be  out  before  we  see  it*?  Dogs  like 
fighting;  old  Isaac  says  they  "delight"  in  it, 
and  for  the  best  of  all  reasons  ;  and  boys  are 
not  cruel  because  they  like  to  see  the  fight. 
They  see  three  of  the  great  cardinal  virtues 
of   dog   or    man  —  courage,    endurance,  and 


6  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

skill — in  intense  action.  This  is  very  differ- 
ent from  a  love  of  making  dogs  fight,  and 
enjoying,  and  aggravating,  and  making  gain 
by  their  pluck.  A  boy — be  he  ever  so  fond 
himself  of  fighting,  if  he  be  a  good  boy,  hates 
and  despises  all  this,  but  he  would  have  run  off 
with  Bob  and  me  fast  enough:  it  is  a  natural, 
and  a  not  wicked  interest,  that  all  boys  and  men 
have  in  witnessing  intense  energy  in  action. 

Does  any  curious  and  finely-ignorant  wom- 
an wish  to  know  how  Bob's  eye  at  a  glance 
announced  a  dog-fight  to  his  brain?  He  did 
not,  he  could  not  see  the  dogs  fighting;  it 
was  a  flash  of  an  inference,  a  rapid  induction. 
The  crowd  round  a  couple  of  dogs  fighting, 
is  a  crowd  masculine  mainly,  with  an  occa- 
sional active,  compassionate  woman,  flutter- 
ing wildly  round  the  outside,  and  using  her 
tongue  and  her  hands  freely  upon  the  men, 
as  so  many  "brutes;"  it  is  a  crowd  annular, 
compact,  and  mobile;  a  crowd  centripetal, 
having  its  eyes  and  its  heads  all  bent  down- 
wards and  inwards,  to  one  common  focus. 

Well,  Bob  and  I  are  up,  and  find  it  is  not 
over:  a  small  thoroughbred,  white  bull-terrier, 
is  busy  throttling  a  large  shepherd's  dog,  unac- 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  7 

customed  to  war,  but  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
They  are  hard  at  it;  the  scientific  little  fellow 
doing  his  work  in  great  style,  his  pastoral  ene- 
my fighting  wildly,  but  with  the  sharpest  of 
teeth  and  a  great  courage.  Science  and  breed- 
ing, however,  soon  had  their  own;  the  Game 
.Chicken,  as  the  premature  Bob  called  him, 
working  his  way  up,  took  his  final  grip  of 
poor  Yarrow's  throat, — and  he  lay  gasping 
and  done  for.  His  master,  a  brown,  hand- 
some, big  young  shepherd  from  Tweedsmuir, 
would  have  liked  to  have  knocked  down  any 
man,  would  "drink  up  Esil,  or  eat  a  croco- 
dile," for  that  part,  if  he  had  a  chance:  it  was 
no  use  kicking  the  little  dog;  that  would  only 
make  him  hold  the  closer.  Many  were  the 
means  shouted  out  in  mouthfuls,  of  the  best 
possible  ways  of  ending  it.  "Water!"  but 
there  was  none  near,  and  many  cried  for  it 
who  might  have  got  it  from  the  well  at  Black- 
friars  Wynd.  "Bite  the  tail!"  and  a  large, 
vague,  benevolent,  middle-aged  man,  more 
desirous  than  wise,  with  some  struggle  got 
the  bushy  end  of  Tarrow's  tail  into  his  ample 
mouth,  and  bit  it  with  all  his  might.  This 
was  more  than  enough  for  the  much-enduring, 


8  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

much-perspiring  shepherd,  who,  with  a  gleam 
of  joy  over  his  broad  visage,  dehvered  a  terrific 
facer  upon  our  large,  vague,  benevolent,  mid- 
dle-aged friend, — who  went  down  like  a  shot. 

Still  the  Chicken  holds;  death  not  far  off. 
"Snuff!  a  pinch  of  snuff!"  observed  a  calm, 
highly-dressed  young  buck,  with  an  eye-glass 
in  his  eye.  "Snuff,  indeed!"  growled  the  an- 
gry cro^d,  affronted  and  glaring.  "Snuff!  a 
pinch  of  snuff!"  again  observes  the  buck,  but 
with  more  urgency;  whereupon  were  produced 
several  open  boxes,  and  from  a  mull  which 
may  have  been"  at  Culloden,  he  took  a  pinch, 
knelt  down,  and  presented  it  to  the  nose  of 
the  Chicken.  The  laws  of  physiology  and 
of  snuff  take  their  course;  the  Chicken 
sneezes,  and  Yarrow  is  free. 

The  young  pastoral  giant  stalks  off  with 
Yarrow  in  his  arms, — comforting  him. 

But  the  Bull  Terrier's  blood  is  up,  and  his 
soul  unsatisfied;  he  grips  the  first  dog  he 
meets,  and  discovering  she  is  not  a  dog,  in 
Homeric  phrase,  he  makes  a  brief  sort  of 
amende^  and  is  off.  The  boys,  with  Bob  and 
me  at  their  head,  are  after  him:  down  Niddry 
Street   he   goes,   bent  on   mischief;    up    the 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  9 

Cowgate,  like  an  arrow  —  Bob  and  I,  and 
our  small  men,  panting  behind. 

There,  under  the  single  arch  of  the  South 
Bridge,  is  a  huge  mastiff,  sauntering  down  the 
middle  of  the  causeway,  as  if  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets :  he  is  old,  gray,  brindled,  as  big 
as  a  little  Highland  bull,  and  has  the  Shaks- 
perian  dewlaps  shaking  as  he  goes. 

The  Chicken  makes  straight  at  him,  and 
fastens  on  his  throat.  To  our  astonishment, 
the  great  creature  does  nothing  but  stand  still, 
hold  himself  up,  and  roar — yes,  roar;  a  long, 
serious,  remonstrative  roar.  How  is  this?  Bob 
and  I  are  up  to  them.  He  is  muzzled!  The 
bailies  had  proclaimed  a  general  muzzling,  and 
his  master,  studying  strength  and  economy 
mainly,  had  encompassed  his  huge  jaws  in  a 
home-made  apparatus,  constructed  out  of  the 
leather  of  some  ancient  hreechin.  His  mouth 
was  open  as  far  as  it  could ;  his  lips  curled  up 
in  rage — a  sort  of  terrible  grin;  his  teeth 
gleaming,  ready,  from  out  the  darkness ;  the 
strap  across  his  mouth  tense  as  a  bowstring; 
his  whole  frame  stiff  with  indignation  and  sur- 
prise; his  roar  asking  us  all  round,  "Did  you 
ever  see  the  like  of  this*?"  He  looked  a  statue 


10  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

of  anger  and  astonishment,  done  in  Aberdeen 
granite. 

We  soon  had  a  crowd:  the  Chicken  held  on. 
"A  knife!"  cried  Bob;  and  a  cobbler  gave 
him  his  knife:  you  know  the  kind  of  knife, 
worn  away  obliquely  to  a  point,  and  always 
keen.  I  put  its  edge  to  the  tense  leather;  it 
ran  before  it;  and  then!  —  one  sudden  jerk  of 
that  enormous  head,  a  sort  of  dirty  mist  about 
his  mouth,  no  noise, — and  the  bright  and  fierce 
little  fellow  is  dropped,  limp,  and  dead.  A 
solemn  pause:  this  was  more  than  any  of  us 
had  bargained  for.  I  turned  the  little  fellow 
over,  and  saw  he  was  quite  dead :  the  mastiff 
had  taken  him  by  the  small  of  the  back,  like 
a  rat,  and  broken  it. 

He  looked  down  at  his  victim  appeased, 
ashamed  and  amazed ;  snuffed  him  all  over, 
stared  at  him,  and  taking  a  sudden  thought, 
turned  round  and  trotted  off.  Bob  took  the 
dead  dog  up,  and  said,  "John,  we'll  bury  him 
after  tea."  "Yes,"  said  I,  and  was  off  after  the 
mastiff.  He  made  up  the  Cowgate  at  a  rapid 
swing;  he  had  forgotten  some  engagement. 
He  turned  up  the  Candlemaker  Row,  and 
stopped  at  the  Harrow  Inn. 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  ll 

There  was  a  carrier's  cart  ready  to  start,  and 
a  keen,  tliin,  impatient,  black-a-vised  little  man, 
his  hand  at  his  gray  horse's  head,  looking  about 
angrily  for  something.  "  Rab,  ye  thief!"  said 
he,  aiming  a  kick  at  my  great  friend,  who  drew 
cringing  up,  and  avoiding  the  heavy  shoe  with 
more  agility  than  dignity,  and  watching  his 
master's  eye,  slunk  dismayed  under  the  cart, 

—  his  ears  down,  and  as  much  as  he  had  of 
tail  down  too. 

What  a  man  this  must  be — thought  I — to 
whom  my  tremendous  hero  turns  tail !  The 
carrier  saw  the  muzzle  hanging,  cut  and  use- 
less, from  his  neck,  and  I  eagerly  told  him  the 
story,  which  Bob  and  I  always  thought,  and 
still  think,  Homer,  or  King  David,  or  Sir 
Walter,  alone  were  worthy  to  rehearse.  The 
severe  little  man  was  mitigated,  and  conde- 
scended to  say,  "  Rab,  ma  man,  puir  Rabbie," 

—  whereupon  the  stump  of  a  tail  rose  up,  the 
ears  were  cocked,  the  eyes  filled,  and  were 
comforted;  the  two  friends  were  reconciled. 
"  Hupp ! "  and  a  stroke  of  the  whip  were 
given  to  Jess ;  and  off  went  the  three. 

Bob  and  I  buried  the  Game  Chicken  that 


12  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

night  (we  had  not  much  of  a  tea)  in  the  back- 
green  of  his  house  in  Melville  Street,  No.  17, 
with  considerable  gravity  and  silence ;  and 
being  at  the  time -in  the  Iliad,  and,  like  all 
boys,  Trojans,  we  called  him  Hector  of  course. 


QIX  years  have  passed, — a  long  time  for  a 
^  boy  and  a  dog  :  Bob  Ainslie  is  off  to  the 
wars ;  I  am  a  medical  student,  and  clerk  at 
Minto  House  Hospital. 

Rab  I  saw  almost  every  week,  on  the 
Wednesday;  and  we  had  much  pleasant  in- 
timacy. I  found  the  way  to  his  heart  by 
frequent  scratching  of  his  huge  head,  and  an 
occasional  bone.  When  I  did  not  notice  him 
he  would  plant  himself  straight  before  me, 
and  stand  wagging  that  bud  of  a  tail,  and 
looking  up,  with  his  head  a  little  to  the  one 
side.  His  master  I  occasionally  saw;  he 
used  to  call  me  "  Maister  John,"  but  was 
laconic  as  any  Spartan. 

One  fine  October  afternoon,  I  was  leaving 
the  hospital,  when  I  saw  the  large  gate  open, 
and  in  walked  Rab,  with  that  great  and  easy 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  13 

saunter  of  his.  He  looked  as  if  taking  general 
possession  of  the  place;  like  the  Duke  of 
Wellington  entering  a  subdued  city,  satiated 
with  victory  and  peace.  After  him  came  Jess, 
now  white  from  age,  with  her  cart ;  and  in  it 
a  woman,  carefully  wrapped  up, — the  carrier 
leading  the  horse  anxiously,  and  looking  back. 
When  he  saw  me,  James  (for  his  name  was 
James  Noble)  made  a  curt  and  grotesque 
"  boo,"  and  said,  "  Maister  John,  this  is  the 
mistress ;  she's  got  a  trouble  in  her  breest — 
some  kind  o'  an  income  we're  thinkin'," 

By  this  time  I  saw  the  woman's  face ;  she 
was  sitting  on  a  sack  filled  with  straw,  her 
husband's  plaid  round  her,  and  his  big-coat, 
with  its  large  white  metal  buttons,  over  her  feet. 

I  never  saw  a  more  unforge table  face — pale, 
serious,  lonely^  delicate,  sweet,  without  being  at 
all  what  we  call  fine.  She  looked  sixty,  and 
had  on  a  match,  white  as  snow,  with  its  black 
ribbon ;  her  silvery,  smooth  hair  setting  off 
her  dark-gray  eyes — eyes  such  as  one  sees 
only  twice  or  thrice  in   a  lifetime,  full  of  suf- 

1  It  is  not  easy   giving  this  look  by  one  word ;    it  was  ex- 
pressive of  her  being  so  much  of  her  life  alone. 


14  R<^b  and  his  Friends. 

fering,  full  also  of  the  overcoming  of  it :  her 
eyebrows  black  and  delicate,  and  her  mouth 
firm,  patient,  and  contented,  which  itw  mouths 
ever  are. 

As  I  have  said,  I  never  saw  a  more  beauti- 
ful  countenance,  or  one  more  subdued  to  set- 
tled quiet.  "  AiHe,"  said  James,  "this  is  Mais- 
ter  John,  the  young  doctor ;  Rab's  freend,  ye 
ken.  We  often  speak  aboot  you,  doctor."  She 
smiled,  and  made  a  movement,  but  said  noth- 
ing ;  and  prepared  to  come  down,  putting  her 
plaid  aside  and  rising.  Had  Solomon,  in  all 
his  glory,  been  handing  down  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  at  his  palace  gate,  he  could  not  have 
done  it  more  daintily,  more  tenderly,  more  like 
a  gentleman,  than  did  James  the  Howgate 
carrier,  when  he  lifted  down  Ailie  his  wife. 

The  contrast  of  his  small,  swarthy,  weather- 
beaten,  keen,  worldly  face  to  hers — pale,  sub- 
dued, and  beautiful — was  something  wonder- 
ful. Rab  looked  on  concerned  and  puzzled, 
but  ready  for  anything  that  might  turn  up, — 
were  it  to  strangle  the  nurse,  the  porter,  or  even 
me.     Ailie  and  he  seemed  great  friends. 

"  As  I  was  sayin',  she's  got  a  kind  o'  trouble 
in  her  breest,  doctor ;  wull  ye  tak'  a  look  at 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  15 

it?"  We  walked  into  the  consulting-room, 
all  four;  Rab  grim  and  comic,  willing  to  be 
happy  and  confidential  if  cause  could  be 
shown,  willing  also  to  be  the  reverse,  on  the 
same  terms.  Ailie  sat  down,  undid  her  open 
gown  and  her  lawn  handkerchief  round  her 
neck,  and,  without  a  word,  showed  me  her 
right  breast.  I  looked  at  and  examined  it 
carefully, — she  and  James  watching  me,  and 
Rab  eyeing  all  three.  What  could  I  say  ? 
there  it  was,  that  had  once  been  so  soft,  so 
shapely,  so  white,  so  gracious  and  bountiful, 
so  "full  of  all  blessed  conditions," — hard  as 
a  stone,  a  centre  of  horrid  pain,  making  that 
pale  face,  with  its  gray,  lucid,  reasonable  eyes, 
and  its  sweet  resolved  mouth,  express  the  full 
measure  of  suffering  overcome.  Why  was  that 
gentle,  modest,  sweet  woman,  clean  and  lovea- 
ble,  condemned  by  God  to  bear  such  a  burden? 
I  got  her  away  to  bed.  "  May  Rab  and  me 
bide?"  said  James.  ^'Tou  may;  and  Rab,  if 
he  will  behave  himself"  "  I'se  warrant  he's  do 
that,  doctor ; "  and  in  slunk  the  faithful  beast. 
I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him.  There  are 
no  such  dogs  now.  He  belonged  to  a  lost  tribe. 
As  I  have  said,  he  was  brindled,  and  gray  like 


i6  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

Rubislaw  granite  ;  his  hair  short,  hard,  and 
close,  Hke  a  Hon's;  his  body  thick  set,  hke  a 
httle  bull — a  sort  of  compressed  Hercules  of  a 
dog.  He  must  have  been  ninety  pounds' 
weight,  at  the  least ;  he  had  a  large  blunt  head ; 
his  muzzle  black  as  night,  his  mouth  blacker 
than  any  night,  a  tooth  or  two  —  being  all  he 
had — gleaming  out  of  his  jaws  of  darkness. 
His  head  was  scarred  with  the  records  of  old 
wounds,  a  sort  of  series  of  fields  of  battle  all 
over  it;  one  eye  out,  one  ear  cropped  as  close 
as  was  Archbishop  Leighton's  father's ;  the  re- 
maining eye  had  the  power  of  two  ;  and  above 
it,  and  in  constant  communication  with  it,  was 
a  tattered  rag  of  an  ear,  which  was  forever- 
unfurling  itself,  like  an  old  flag;  and  then  that 
bud  of  a  tail,  about  one  inch  long,  if  it  could 
in  any  sense  be  said  to  be  long,  being  as  broad 
as  long — the  mobility,  the  instantaneousness 
of  that  bud  were  very  funny  and  surprising, 
and  its  expressive  twinklings  and  winkings, 
the  intercommunications  between  the  eye,  the 
ear  and  it,  were  of  the  oddest  and  swiftest. 

Rab  had  the  dignity  and  simplicity  of  great 
size  ;  and  having  fought  his  way  all  along  the 
road  to  absolute  supremacy,  he  was  as  mighty 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  17 

in  his  own  line  as  Julius  Caesar  or  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  and  had  the  gravity^  of  all 
great  fighters. 

You  must  have  often  observed  the  likeness 
of  certain  men  to  certain  animals,  and  of  cer- 
tain dogs  to  men.  Now,  I  never  looked  at 
Rab  without  thinking  of  the  great  Baptist 
preacher,  Andrew  Fuller.^  The  same  large, 
heavy,  menacing,  combative,  sombre,  honest 
countenance,  the  same  deep  inevitable  eye, 
the  same  look, — as  of  thunder    asleep,   but 


1  A  Highland  gamekeeper,  when  asked  why  a  certain  ter- 
rier, of  singular  pluck,  was  so  much  more  solemn  than  the 
other  dogs,  said,  "  Oh,  Sir,  life's  full  o'  sairiousness  to  him  — 
he  just  never  can  get  enufF  o'  fechtin'." 

2  Fuller  was,  in  early  life,  when  a  farmer-lad  at  Soham',  fa- 
mous as  a  boxer  ;  not  quarrelsome,  but  not  without  "  the  stern 
delight "  a  man  of  strength  and  courage  feels  in  their  exercise. 
Dr.  Charles  Stewart,  of  Dunearn,  whose  rare  gifts  and  graces 
as  a  physician,  a  divine,  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman,  live 
only  in  the  memory  of  those  few  who  knew  and  survive 
him,  liked  to  tell  how  Mr.  Fuller  used  to  say,  that  when 
he  was  in  the  pulpit,  and  saw  a  buirdly  man  come  along 
the  passage,  he  would  instinctively  draw  himself  up,  meas- 
ure his  imaginary  antagonist,  and  forecast  how  he  would  deal 
with  him,  his  hands  meanwhile  condensing  into  fists,  and 
tending  to  "square."  He  must  have  been  a  hard  hitter  if  he 
boxed  as  he  preached  — what  "  The  Fancy"  would  call  "  an 
ugly  customer." 

3 


i8  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

ready, — neither  a  dog  nor  a  man  to  be  trifled 
with. 

Next  day,  my  master,  the  surgeon,  exam- 
ined Aihe.  There  was  no  doubt  it  must  kill 
her,  and  soon.  It  could  be  removed — it  might 
never  return — it  would  give  her  speedy  relief 
—  she  should  have  it  done.  She  curtsied, 
looked  at  James,  and  said,  "When?"  "To- 
morrow," said  the  kind  surgeon — a  man  of 
itw  words.  She  and  James  and  Rab  and  I 
retired.  I  noticed  that  he  and  she  spoke  little, 
but  seemed  to  anticipate  everything  in  each 
other.  The  following  day  at  noon,  the  stu- 
dents came  in,  hurrying  up  the  great  stair. 
At  the  first  landing-place,  on  a  small  well- 
known  black  board,  was  a  bit  of  paper  fas- 
tened by  wafers,  and  many .  remains  of  old 
wafers  beside  it.  On  the  paper  were  the 
words,  —  "An  operation  to-day.    J.  B.  Clerk." 

Up  ran  the  youths,  eager  to  secure  good 
places:  in  they  crowded,  full  of  interest  and 
talk.  "What's  the  case?"  "Which  side  is  it?" 

Don't  think  them  heartless ;  they  are  neither 
better  nor  worse  than  you  or  I :  they  get  over 
their  professional  horrors,  and  into  their  proper 
work ;  and  in  them  pity  —  as  an  emotion^  end- 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  19 

ing  in  itself  or  at  best  in  tears  and  a  long- 
drawn  breath,  lessens,  while  pity  as  a  motive, 
is  quickened,  and  gains  power  and  purpose. 
It  is  well  for  poor  human  nature  that  it  is  so. 

The  operating  theatre  is  crowded;  much 
talk  and  fun,  and  all  the  cordiality  and  stir  of 
youth.  The  surgeon  with  his  staff  of  assistants 
is  there.  In  comes  AUie:  one  look  at  her  quiets 
and  abates  the  eager  students.  That  beautiful 
old  woman  is  too  much  for  them;  they  sit 
down,  and  are  dumb,  and  gaze  at  her.  These 
rough  boys  feel  the  power  of  her  presence.  She 
walks  in  quickly,  but  without  haste;  dressed  in 
her  mutch,  her  neckerchief,  her  white  dimity 
short-gown,  her  black  bombazine  petticoat, 
showing  her  white  worsted  stockings  and  her 
carpet-shoes.  Behind  her  was  James  with  Rab. 
James  sat  down  in  the  distance,  and  took  that 
huge  and  noble  head  between  his  knees.  Rab 
looked  perplexed  and  dangerous;  forever  cock- 
ing his  ear  and  dropping  it  as  fast. 

Ailie  stepped  up  on  a  seat,  and  laid  herself 
on  the  table,  as  her  friend  the  surgeon  told  her; 
arranged  herself,  gave  a  rapid  look  at  James, 
shut  her  eyes,  rested  herself  on  me,  and  took 
my  hand.     The  operation  was  at  once  begun; 


20  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

it  was  necessarily  slow;  and  chloroform — one 
of  God's  best  gifts  to  his  suffering  children — 
was  then  unknown.  The  surgeon  did  his 
work.  The  pale  face  showed  its  pain,  but  was 
still  and  silent.  Rab's  soul  was  working  with- 
in him;  he  saw  that  something  strange  was 
going  on, — blood  flowing  from  his  mistress, 
and  she  suffering;  his  ragged  ear  was  up,  and 
importunate;  he  growled  and  gave  now  and 
then  a  sharp  impatient  yelp;  he  would  have 
liked  to  have  done  something  to  that  man. 
But  James  had  him  firm,  and  gave  him  a 
glower  from  time  to  time,  and  an  intimation 
of  a  possible  kick; — all  the  better  for  James, 
it  kept  his  eye  and  his  mind  off  Ailie. 

It  is  over:  she  is  dressed,  steps  gently  and 
decently  down  from  the  table,  looks  for  James; 
then,  turning  to  the  surgeon  and  the  students, 
she  curtsies, — and  in  a  low,  clear  voice,  begs 
their  pardon  if  she  has  behaved  ill.  The  stu- 
dents— all  of  us — wept  like  children;  the  sur- 
geon happed  her  up  carefully, — and,  resting 
on  James  and  me,  Ailie  went  to  her  room, 
Rab  following.  We  put  her  to  bed.  James 
took  off  his  heavy  shoes,  crammed  with  tackets, 
heel-capt  and  toe-capt,  and  put  them  carefully 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  2i 

under  the  table,  saying,  "Maister  John,  I'm  for 
nane  o'  yer  strynge  nurse  bodies  for  AiUe.  I'll 
be  her  nurse,  and  I'll  gang  aboot  on  my  stock- 
in'  soles  as  canny  as  pussy."  And  so  he  did; 
and  handy  and  clever,  and  swift  and  tender  as 
any  woman,  was  that  horny-handed,  snell,  per- 
emptory little  man.  Everything  she  got  he 
gave  her:  he  seldom  slept;  and  often  I  saw 
his  small  shrewd  eyes  out  of  the '  darkness, 
fixed  on  her.     As  before,  they  spoke  little. 

Rab  behaved  well,  never  moving,  showing 
us  how  meek  and  gentle  he  could  be,  and  occa- 
sionally, in  his  sleep,  letting  us  know  that  he  was 
demolishing  some  adversary.  He  took  a  walk 
with  me  every  day,  generally  to  the  Candle- 
maker  Row;  but  he  was  sombre  and  mild;  de- 
clined doing  battle,  though  some  fit  cases  of- 
fered, and  indeed  submitted  to  sundry  indigni- 
ties; and  was  always  very  ready  to  turn  and 
came  faster  back,  and  trotted  up  the  stair  with 
much  lightness,  and  went  straight  to  that  door. 

Jess,  the  mare,  had  been  sent,  with  her  weath- 
er-worn cart,toHowgate,and  had  doubtless  her 
own  dim  and  placid  meditations  and  confusions, 
on  the  absence  of  her  master  and  Rab,  and  her 
unnatural  freedom  from  the  road  and  her  cart. 


22  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

For  some  days  Ailie  did  well.  The  wound 
healed  "by  the  first  intention;"  for' as  James 
said,  "Oor  Ailie's  skin's  ower  clean  to  beil." 
The  students  came  in  quiet  and  anxious,  and 
surrounded  her  bed.  She  said  she  liked  to  see 
their  young,  honest  faces.  The  surgeon  dressed 
her,  and  spoke  to  her  in  his  own  short  kind 
way,  pitying  her  through  his  eyes,  Rab  and 
James  outside  the  circle, — Rab  being  now  re- 
conciled, and  even  cordial,  and  having  made 
up  his  mind  that  as  yet  nobody  required  wor- 
rying, but,  as  you  may  suppose,  semper  paratus. 

So  far  well:  but, four  days  after  the  operation 
my  patient  had  a  sudden  and  long  shivering,  a 
"groosin',"  as  she  called  it.  I  saw  her  soon 
after;  her  eyes  were  too  bright,  her  cheek  col- 
ored; she  was  restless,  and  ashamed  of  being 
so;  the  balance  was  lost;  mischief  had  begun. 
On  looking  at  the  wound,  a  blush  of  red  told 
the  secret:  her  pulse  was  rapid,  her  breathing 
anxious  and  quick,  she  wasn't  herself,  as  she 
said,  and  was  vexed  at  her  restlessness.  We 
tried  what  we  could.  James  did  everything,  was 
everywhere;  never  in  the  way,  never  out  of  it. 
Rab  subsided  under  the  table  into  a  dark  place, 
and  was  motionless,  all  but  his  eye,  which  fol- 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  23 

lowed  every  one.  Ailie  got  worse ;  began  to 
wander  in  her  mind,  gently ;  was  more  demon- 
strative in  her  ways  to  James,  rapid  in  her 
questions,  and  sharp  at  times.  He  was  vexed, 
and  said,  "  She  was  never  that  way  afore  ;  no, 
never."  For  a  time  she  knew  her  head  was 
wrong,  and  was  always  asking  our  pardon — 
the  dear,  gentle  old  woman :  then  delirium  set 
in  strong,  without  pause.  Her  brain  gave 
way,  and  then  came  that  terrible  spectacle, 

"  The  intellectual  power,  through  words  and  things, 
Went  sounding  on  its  dim  and  perilous  way ; " 

she  sang  bits  of  old  songs  and  Psalms,  stopping 
suddenly,  mingling  the  Psalms  of  David,  and 
the  diviner  words  of  his  Son*  and  Lord,  with 
homely  odds  and  ends  and  scraps  of  ballads. 

Nothing  more  touching,  or  in  a  sense  more 
strangely  beautiful,  did  I  ever  witness.  Her 
tremulous,  rapid,  affectionate,  eager,  Scotch 
voice, — the  swift,  aimless,  bewildered  mind, 
the  baffled  utterance,  the  bright  and  perilous 
eye  ;  some  wild  words,  some  household  cares, 
something  for  James,  the  names  of  the  dead, 
Rab  called  rapidly  and  in  a  ''fremyt"  voice, 
and  he  starting  up,  surprised,  and  slinking  off 


24  R<^i>  ^nd  his  Friends. 

as  if  he  were  to  blame  somehow,  or  had  been 
dreaming  he  heard.  Many  eager  questions 
and  beseechings  which  James  and  I  could 
make  nothing  of,  and  on  which  she  seemed  to 
set  her  all,  and  then  sink  back  ununderstood. 
It  was  very  sad,  but  better  than  many  things 
that  are  not  called  sad.  James  hovered  about, 
put  out  and  miserable,  but  active  and  exact  as 
ever ;  read  to  her,  when  there  was  a  lull,  short 
bits  from  the  Psalms,  prose  and  metre,  chant- 
ing the  latter  in  his  own  rude  and  serious  way, 
showing  great  knowledge  of  the  fit  words, 
bearing  up  like  a  man,  and  doating  over  her 
as  his  "ain  Aihe."  "Ailie,  ma  woman!" 
"  Ma  ain  bonnie  wee  dawtie  ! " 

The  end  was  drawing  on :  the  golden  bowl 
was  breaking;  the  silver  cord  was  fast  being 
loosed  —  that  animula  hlandula.,  vagula^  hospes^ 
comesque,  was  about  to  flee.  The  body  and 
the  soul — companions  for  sixty  years — were 
being  sundered,  and  taking  leave.  She  was 
walking,  alone,  through  the  valley  of  that 
shadow,  into  which  one  day  we  must  all  enter, 
— and  yet  she  was  not  alone,  for  we  know 
whose  rod  and  staff  were  comforting  her. 

One  night  she  had  fallen  quiet,  and  as  we 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  23 

hoped,  asleep ;  her  eyes  were  shut.  We  put 
down  the  gas,  and  sat  watching  her.  Suddenly 
she  sat  up  in  bed,  and  taking  a  bedgown  which 
was  lying  on  it  rolled  up,  she  held  it  eagerly 
to  her  breast,  —  to  the  right  side.  We  could 
see  her  eyes  bright  with  surprising  tenderness 
and  joy,  'bending  over  this  bundle  of  clothes. 
She  held  it  as  a  woman  holds  her  sucking 
child  ;  opening  out  her  nightgown  impatient- 
ly, and  holding  it  close,  and  brooding  over  it, 
and  murmuring  foolish  little  words,  as  over 
one  whom  his  mother  comforteth,  and  who 
sucks  and  is  satisfied.  It  was  pitiful  and 
strange  to  see  her  wasted  dying  look,  keen 
and  yet  vague — her  immense  love. 

"Preserve  me  !"  groaned  James,  giving  way. 
And  then  she  rocked  back  and  forward,  as  if  to 
make  it  sleep,  hushing  it,  and  wasting  on  it  her 
infinite  fondness.  "  Wae's  me,  doctor ;  I  de- 
clare she's  thinkin'  it's  that  bairn."  "  What 
bairn  ?"•  "■  The  only  bairn  we  ever  had  ;  our 
wee  Mysie,  and  she's  in  the  Kingdom,  forty 
years  and  maix."  It  was  plainly  true :  the  pain 
in  the  breast  telling  its  urgent  story  to  a  be- 
wildered, ruined  brain,  was  misread  and  mis- 
taken ;  it  suggested  to  her  the  uneasiness  of  a 


» 
^ 


26  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

breast  full  of  milk,  and  then  the  child ;  and  so 
again  once  more  they  were  together,  and  she 
had  her  ain  wee  Mysie  in  her  bosom. 

This  was  the  close.  She  sank  rapidly:  the 
delirium  left  her;  but,  as  she  whispered,  she 
was  "clean  silly ;"  it  was  the  lightening  before 
the  final  darkness.  After  having  for  some  time 
lain  still — her  eyes  shut,  she  said  "James!" 
He  came  close  to  her,  and  lifting  up  her  calm, 
clear,  beautiful  eyes,  she  gave  him  a  long  look, 
turned  to  me  kindly  but  shortly,  looked  for 
Rab  but  could  not  see  him,  then  turned  to  her 
husband  again,  as  if  she  would  never  leave  off 
looking,  shut  her  eyes,  and  composed  herself 
She  lay  for  some  time  breathing  quick,  and 
passed  away  so  gently,  that  when  we  thought 
she  was  gone,  James,  in  his  old-fashioned  way, 
held  the  mirror  to  her  face.  After  a  long 
pause,  one  small  spot  of  dimness  was  breathed 
out ;  it  vanished  away,  and  never  returned, 
leaving  the  blank  clear  darkness  of  the  mirror 
without  a  stain.  "  What  is  our  life  ?  it  is  even 
a  vapor,  which  appeareth  for  a  little  time,  and 
then  vanisheth  away." 

Rab  all  this  time  had  been  full  awake  and 
motionless ;  he  came  forward  beside  us :  Ailie's 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  Vj 

hand,  which  James  had  held,  was  hanging 
down;  it  was  soaked  with  his  tears;  Rab 
licked  it  all  over  carefully,  looked  at  her, 
and  returned  to  his  place  under  the  table. 

James  and  I  sat,  I  don't  know  how  long, 
but  for  some  time, — saying  nothing:  he  started 
up  abruptly,  and  with  some  noise  went  to  the 
table,  and  putting  his  right  fore  and  middle 
fingers  each  into  a  shoe,  pulled  them  out,  and 
put  them  on,  breaking  one  of  the  leather 
latchets,  and  muttering  in  anger,  "I  never 
did  the  like  o'  that  afore!" 

I  believe  he  never  did;  nor  after  either. 
"Rab!  "he  said  roughly,  and  pointing  with  his 
ttiumb  to  the  bottom  of  the  bed.  Rab  leapt 
up,  and  settled  himself;  his  head  and  eye  to 
the  dead  face.  "  Maister  John,  ye'U  wait  for 
me,"  said  the  carrier,  and  disappeared  in  the 
darkness,  thundering  down  stairs  in  his  heavy- 
shoes.  I  ran  to  a  front  window:  there  he  was, 
already  round  the  house,  and  out  at  the  gate, 
fleeing  like  a  shadow. 

I  was  afraid  about  him,  and  yet  not  afraid; 
so  I  sat  down  beside  Rab,  and  being  wearied, 
fell  asleep.  I  awoke  from  a  sudden  noise 
outside.    It  was  November,  and  there  had  been 


28  Rab  and  his  Friends. 

a  heavy  fall  of  snow.  Rab  was  in  statu  quo; 
he  heard  the  noise  too,  and  plainly  knew  it,  but 
never  moved.  I  looked  out;  and  there,  at  the 
gate,  in  the  dim  morning — for  the  sun  was  not 
up,  was  Jess  and  the  cart, — a  cloud  of  steam 
rising  from  the  old  mare.  I  did  not  see  James; 
he  was  already  at  the  door,  and  came  up  the 
stairs,  and  met  me.  It  was  less  than  three 
hours  since  he  left,  and  he  must  have  posted 
out — who  knows  how? — to  Howgate,  full 
nine  miles  off;  yoked  Jess,  and  driven  her  as- 
tonished into  town.  He  had  an  armful  of 
blankets,  and  was  streaming  with  perspiration. 
He  nodded  to  me,  spread  out  on  the  floor 
two  pairs  of  clean  old  blankets,  having  at 
their  corners,  "A.  G.,  1794,"  in  large  letters 
in  red  worsted.  These  were  the  initials  of 
Alison  Grasme,  and  James  may  have  looked 
in  at  her  from  without — himself  unseen  but 
not  unthought  of — when  he  was  "wat,  wat, 
and  weary,"  and  after  having  walked  many  a 
mile  over  the  hills,  may  have  seen  her  sitting, 
while  "a'  the  lave  were  sleepin';"  and  by  the 
firelight  working  her  name  on  the  blankets, 
for  her  ain  James's  bed. 

He  motioned  Rab  down,   and  taking  his 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  29 

wife  in  his  arms,  laid  her  in  the  blankets,  and 
happed  her  carefully  and  firmly  up,  leaving 
the  face  uncovered;  and  then  lifting  her,  he 
nodded  again  sharply  to  me,  and  with  a  re- 
solved but  utterly  miserable  face,  strode  along 
the  passage,  and  down  stairs,  followed  by 
Rab.  I  followed  with  a  light;  but  he  didn't 
need  it.  I  went  out,  holding  stupidly  the 
candle  in  my  hand  in  the  calm  frosty  air;  we 
were  soon  at  the  gate.  I  could  have  helped 
him,  but  I  saw  he  was  not  to  be  meddled  with, 
and  he  was  strong,  and  did  not  need  it.  He 
laid  her  down  ^s  tenderly,  as  safely,  as  he  had 
lifted  her  out  ten  days  before  —  as  tenderly  as 
when  he  had  her  first  in  his  amis  when  she 
was  only  "A.  G.," — sorted  her,  leaving  that 
beautiful  sealed  face  open  to  the  heavens;  and 
then  taking  Jess  by  the  head,  he  moved  away. 
He  did  not  notice  me,  neither  did  Rab,  who 
presided  behind  the  cj^rt. 

I  stood  till  they  passed  through  the  long 
shadow  of  the  College,  and  turned  up  Nicol- 
son  Street.  I  heard  the  solitary  cart  sound 
through  the  streets,  and  die  away  and  come 
again;  and  I  returned,  thinking  of  that  com- 
pany going  up  Libberton   Brae,   then   along 


oo  Rah  and  his  Friends. 

Roslin  Muir,  the  morning  light  touching  the 
Pentlands  and  making  them  Hke  on-looking 
ghosts;  then  down  the  hill  through  Auchin- 
dinny  woods,  past  "haunted  Woodhouselee;" 
and  as  daybreak  came  sweeping  up  the  bleak 
Lammermuirs,  and  fell  on  his  own  door,  the 
company  would  stop,  and  James  would  take 
the  key,  and  lift  Ailie  up  again,  laying  her  on 
her  own  bed,  and,  having  put.  Jess  up,  would 
return  with  Rab  and  shut  the  door. 

James  buried  his  wife,  with  his  neighbors 
mourning,  Rab  inspecting  the  solemnity  from 
a  distance.  It  was  snow,  and  that  black  rag- 
ged hole  would  look  strange  in  the  midst  of 
the  swelling  spotless  cushion  of  white.  James 
looked  after  everything;  then  rather  suddenly 
fell  ill,  and  took  to  bed;  was  insensible  when 
the  doctor  came,  and  soon  died.  A  sort  of  low 
fever  was  prevailing  in  the  village,  and  his  want 
of  sleep,  his  exhaustion,  and  his  misery,  made 
him  apt  to  take  it.  The  grave  was  not  difficult 
to  reopen.  .  A  fresh  fall  of  snow  had  again 
made  all  things  white  and  smooth;  Rab  once 
more  looked  on,  and  slunk  home  to  the  stable. 

And  what  of  Rab?     I  asked  for  him  next 


Rab  and  his  Friends.  31 

week  at  the  new  carrier  who  got  the  goodwill 
of  James's  business,  and  was  now  master  of 
Jess  and  her  cart.  "How's  Rab?"  He  put 
me  off,  and  said  rather  rudely,  "  What's  your 
business  wi'  the  dowg?"  I  was  not  to  be  so 
put  off.  "Where's  Rab?"  He,  getting  con- 
fused and  red,  and  intermeddling  with  his 
hair,  said,  "'Deed,  sir,  Rab's  deid."  "Dead! 
what  did  he  die  of?  "  "  Weel,  sir,"  said  he, 
getting  redder,  "he  didna  exactly  dee;  he  was 
killed.  I  had  to  brain  him  wi'  a  rack-pin; 
there  was  nae  doin'  wi'  him.  He  lay  in  the 
treviss  wi'  the  mear,  and  wadna  come  oot.  I 
tempit  him  wi'  kail  and  meat,  but  he  wad  tak 
naething,  and  keepit  me  frae  feedin'  the  beast, 
and  he  was  aye  gur  gurrin',  and  grup  gruppin' 
me  by  the  legs.  I  was  laith  to  make  awa  wi' 
the  auld  dowg,  his  like  wasna  atween  this  and 
Thornhill, — but,  'deed,  sir,  I  could  do  nae- 
thing else."  I  believed  him.  Fit  end  for^ Rab, 
quick  and  complete.  His  teeth  and  his  friends 
gone,  why  should  he  keep  the  peace  and  be 
civil? 


1  Q~ 

^■'  B*^  JEW -■, 


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